


Calling Shotgun

by campsith (Psith)



Series: Maxvid week 2017 [1]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Maxvid Week, Shotgunning, Smoking, Underage Smoking, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 06:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12647547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psith/pseuds/campsith
Summary: All Max wants is a goddamn cigarette.maxvid week day 1: reverse au*will most likely be rewritten*





	Calling Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> ive never smoked a cigarette in my life
> 
>  **edit** i am actually really really unhappy with this fic, if i dont end up rewriting it then i am definitely going to be deleting it.

Max is not a 'kids' person. He doesn't hate them, necessarily, but the farther away they are from him the more content he is. He can't swear around them, he can't smoke around them, parents just generally don't care for him hanging around being a bad influence and all.

So why the hell did he think taking a job at a children's summer camp was a good idea.

Hardly three weeks in, he's about to lose it, and all he wants is a damn cigarette. Every day he wishes more that he was wise enough to have chosen to work in the kitchen or  _anywhere else_ because he feels he is slowly going batty from it all. The campers certainly weren't making it easy for him to resist, either, what with the need of constant supervision (despite being old enough that they shouldn't be acting this way), never shutting up, and for some reason always coming to him with their issues when his co-counselor Nikki was _clearly_ the better option.

But the worst bit about working at this stupid camp was Davey. The little ginger shit made it his apparent mission to antagonize specifically Max more than any other kid and it pissed him off to no end. At first, Max had hope for the kid, seeing a bit of himself in the rebellious attitude the little spit-fuck displayed -- but the moment Davey decided he actually enjoyed camping Max was fucking done. That didn't go unnoticed. Since then, that bright-eyed shithead never ceased to leave Max's side to make sure the days' activities were actually followed through (despite Nikki actually being in charge of most of them).

So this brings us to today, where Max is literally _begging_ his co-counselor to keep the next activity simple enough for just her to be in charge. "Nikki, please, just let me have ten minutes; I am going to actually fucking kill myself if I can't get a smoke in soon."

The woman rolls her eyes at him, cocking her hip. "You threaten that every day and you haven't done it yet. I'm getting impatient," she snorts. When he just gives her a look, she rolls her eyes again and says, "Yes, Max, Christ! I've got this."

Max punches the air. "Yes! Thank you, Christ!" He runs a hand through his bangs and turns to leave, only to be interrupted by a loud "Ahem" which brings him back. "Thank you, Nikki," he corrects himself after seeing her raised eyebrow and knowing grin. (What she knows exactly, Max has yet to figure out, but this isn't the first time she's given him that face.) "You're the best, I owe you."

"I know!" she calls after his back as they go their separate ways.

The counselors' cabin's door is unlocked when Max reaches it, which he doesn't pay any mind to. It's not uncommon that either he or Nikki forget to lock it before breakfast. No, it's once he opens the door that he figures something's up. First off, his bed was made, which is something he never does because he honestly doesn't care enough to. Secondly, the drawer of his nightstand (where he keeps his glasses, cigarettes, and other personal stuff) was wide open.

Immediately he kneels down to rummage through his own things, making a mental checklist of his belongings as he finds them. Only thing seemingly ary is new smudges all over his glasses, as though someone had put their grubby little paws right on the lenses because they don't know how to put them on. He lets out a grunt of irritation as he looks them over and places then back in the drawer, reaching for the object he came in there for to begin with, and then panicking shortly when he can't find it.

That's when the pieces fall into place and all the clues lead to one answer.

"Davey," he hisses through gritted teeth.

This isn't the first time this has happened and frankly Max is wondering why he keeps letting this happen. He knows what the kid takes every time and where he goes every time. One of them needs to mix it up because this is just getting tedious.

Into the woods Max stalks, hands fisted into his pockets to try to keep his frustration and urge to hit this fucking child once he reaches him at bay.

Before long, he reaches the usual spot, coldly staring at the body hunched over the river retching into it. "Hey, Shithead!" he shouts, marching angrily up to the vomiting child. "What did you do with my fucking smokes this time?"

Davey gives a hard cough before sitting up and wiping his lip with the bottom of his shirt. "I don't have your dang cigarettes."

"Bullshit."

"You're not 'sposed to swear."

"Hm." Max glances around. Knowing the kid, he probably chucked them across the river or something. Somewhere Max couldn't easily get to. Another throaty cough is made, bringing Max's attention to it. The redhead was green-faced and obviously nauseated, something he most certainly was not when he was complaining to Max about the quality of breakfast this morning.

Max purses his lips and drops his gaze to the ground, letting his mouth form a smirk once he sees the carton sticking out ever so slightly of Davey's pocket. "Alright kid," he says, hoisting him up by the vest he wore every day. "I'll take those back."

Davey squirms in protest, crying, "No! Smoking's bad for you!" The counselor simply plucks his property out of the boy's trousers and drops him right back onto the ground. "Cancer!"

"Yea-huh, sure," he replies as he pulls out a stick and his lighter, cupping his hand over both to make sure it catches. He inhales deeply, taking a long drag and lets out a pleased moan around it. Fuck that felt good. He lets the smoke blow out his nose before acknowledging the camper again. "So," he starts, "why did I find smudges all over my glasses?"

For a while he doesn't get an answer. All he gets is crossed arms and a pout. He waits. He takes another drag. "…You have awful eyesight."

"That's what I thought." Max looks back at the river, some bits of the kid's retch still floating near the edge. "So why're you throwing up, kid, you sick? You better not 'cause I don't think we actually have anything to help here."

Davey turns his head, not answering for a long moment, then buries it in his knees and groans, presenting a very crinkled cigarette to Max. His ears turn red as he shows off a box of matches with his other hand.

Max immediately doubles over in a fit of laughter. "Oh my god, you absolute shithead!" he cackles, nearly dropping his own lit stick.

"Don't laugh!" Davey cries. "It's not funny!"

"Nah it's fuckin' hilarious," Max says, laughter subsiding into occasional giggles. The kid puffs out his reddened cheeks then sticks his tongue out at Max before twisting around so he's not facing the adult anymore. With a final huff of laughter, Max finishes off his cigarette and flicks it off into the water. He looks at his watch. He's well over the ten minutes Nikki gave him, but figures she's probably fine by herself for a little bit longer. He tugs out another stick, looking the embarrassed camper over as he does. Max looks at his watch again, though he's not sure why, and plops himself down to sit, the grass tickling his ankles unpleasantly.

He lights his second cigarette then gestures to the kid sitting in front of him. "Hey, c'mere," he says around the stick.

"What?" Davey sniffs. He looks at the counselor's position and narrows his eyes. "What?" he repeats.

Max resists rolling his eyes and gestures again. "C'mere. I'll teach ya how to properly smoke a cigarette."

After a moment of apparent consideration, cautiously Davey crawls over to sit next to Max, bringing his knees to his chest. "…Max this doesn't--"

"Okay, first of all, shut up. You started this. Second, you need to relax, kid. It's easy."

"You won't--"

"No, dingleberry, I won't tell anyone. Now here," he transfers the cigarette to the kid's shaky fingers, making sure not to burn either of them in the process. "There…now, start small, breathe it in a little and hold it."

Davey ignores his instructions and immediately takes a deep inhalation, coughing it up right after and dropping the cigarette.

"No-- goddammit, Davey!" He quickly grabs the smoke off the ground, making sure it's still lit. This kid already wasted one of his cigarettes and if he does another he's paying for the next box. Max glares at him, smacking him roughly on the back. It only made him cough more.

The adult puts the cigarette back between his own lips and rests his elbow on his knee and his cheek against his hand. This is stupid. Max knows this is stupid. Hell, Davey probably thinks this is stupid, too. Yet they're both still here, Davey wiping his watery eyes with his sleeve and Max wondering what to do next.

Nikki's going to be upset with him, but he still isn't ready to go back -- even if his least favorite camper is here with him. He lay back on the grass, scowling at the sky while tucking his arms behind his head. He continues to scowl and just let the cigarette in his mouth burn without actually smoking it.

"…Max?"

"Yea?"

"Um…are you still gonna, um..uh, t-teach me?"

Max huffs and shrugs. "I think you're a lost cause, kid." Suddenly, he sits up and says, "Wait, wait, no. I mean yes. I know what could work. Come here, closer." He beckons the kid closer, smacking his leg implying for him to sit on it.

Face turned red, Davey does as he's told and sits himself down on Max's lap. "Okay," says Max, hearing the nagging thoughts of how this is probably more illegal than the underage smoking but not caring. "This is called a shotgun, 'right? I'm gonna blow the smoke into your mouth and all you have to do is breathe in when I do, got it?"

The boy gasps and covers his mouth with his hands. "You mean like a…kiss?" he whispers.

Max takes a long drag of the cigarette, grabbing Davey's wrists and pulling them out of the way. "No," he says weakly, then covers the boy's open mouth with his own.

His lips taste like vomit.

Tears form at the corners of the kid's widened eyes but he does as he was instructed, sucking down the smoke being pushed down his throat. His lips are left slobbery once Max lets up.

"Hold it in, hold it hold it," he tells him, watching the little tears steam against his hot cheeks. "Alright, let it out." A small fit of coughs erupts from the boy, but Max praises him all the same. "'Right, not bad, kid, that worked a lot better, dontcha think?"

Davey wipes his eyes but nods, giving a small smile. "Gross," he giggles which Max snorts at. "Can..Can we do it again?"

Max shrugs and looks at what's left of the cigarette. "Yea, why not." He closes his eyes as he takes in another lungful of smoke, placing his free hand on the small of Davey's back to keep him steady, and presses his mouth to the boy's already opened one. He feels him grab onto his shoulder, bunching the fabric of his shirt in the grip.

Maybe Max lets himself enjoy this a little. Maybe he lets his asshole-ness aside for the moment. Maybe he lets his hand drag down Davey's back and maybe he lets his tongue trace Davey's front teeth. Maybe he drops the cigarette they're sharing and maybe he moans a little at the feeling of this kid in his lap and on his mouth. Maybe.

Max thinks,  _Fuck 'Maybe', I don't even care anymore_ _._ He holds his mouth, gently moving, against the boy's, running his tongue along the roof of his and tasting the smoke mixed with vomit on it. _Gross_ _._

Davey starts coughing into his mouth, unable to breathe properly, and Max pushes him off, gagging. _Never-fucking-mind._

"Goddammit Davey, I swear to God--" he pauses, suddenly panicking. Holy fucking shit, did he seriously just shotgun a camper? Holy fucking shit did he actually try to make out with a child? Holy fucking shit was he actually getting turned on by _Davey_!?

He digs his fingers into the ground, tearing away at the grass and dirt. "…Go back to the camp, Davey. Nikki's got a fun activity planned." The boy doesn't move, only licks his lips and starts to say something. Max cuts him off with a loud, "Go, David!" He hears him make a noise before scrambling to a stand and running away.

Max takes a few deep breaths after he's gone. He lay back on his back, running a hand through his bangs. Shakily he brings the carton out. He lights a cigarette.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> oops im late lol  
> sorry, this isnt my best writing, ill try to do better for the rest of the days (im just really busy aaaaa)
> 
> disclaimer: ive never smoked a cigarette in my life nor have i shotgunned one  
> i dont know a damn thing
> 
> my campcamp tumblr, sometimes i post art, but its mostly reblogs: https://campsith.tumblr.com/


End file.
